Dance Till The Sun Comes Down
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: True love is something fleeting, something that few people get to truly experience. And when you do, you'll do anything to make sure you get to keep it. Siremlie, or however I decide to spell it.


For: _Vitzy, my dearest friend, who I promised this to in about December, before she went to India._

_Also, for: Summer, Maddie and anyone else who anticipates this fic. (Just not as much as Vitzy, kay?)_

_I don't own either HP or MV._

_credit to: __Pearl [Princess Pearl] for dreamerverse._

* * *

It all begins the summer he turns twenty three; he's in Azkaban, of course, accused of a crime he didn't commit - but who would listen to _him_? - and he's struggling to keep sane. It's always harder in the summer, he's noticed, with there being more to distract him, what with the heat and the more restless state of the sun hating Dementors.

And that's when he begins to dream.

Prior to the summer of nineteen eighty three, he had never dreamed in Azkaban; the place sucks souls, removes every ounce of happiness-all that remains constitutes nightmares, something he had even managed to avoid by some luck. Yet never had he dreamed; never had he dreamed that he would be free from this place, able to run through the streets, to cast spells with the wand taken from him- he merely existed. Sleep never brought respite, for it was over as soon as it began.

But not from _this_ night.

With a sense of something fresh in his mind, as though some dregs of hope have been found and are now at the forefront of his mind to help him through the long summer months-worsened, due, to the location of Azkaban - Sirius sets himself down on the hard, thin mattress in the corner of his filthy cell and allows himself a moment to wonder. He allows himself to contemplate what his life could have been like, if he had continued to be James and Lily's Secret Keeper: they'd still be alive, for one thing. But maybe, just maybe, they'd have been able to destroy Voldemort themselves, rather than Harry having to do it; maybe, he could have found a girl by now, with whom he had fallen in love with. Maybe _he_ could have experienced the same happiness of which James and Lily had had their fair share of, even though tinged with guilt and fear, before they passed away.

The possibilities are endless, and, after a few moments of this wild and flamboyant approach to contemplation, he decides it is becoming dangerously close to being considered a _happy_ thought; something which, if found, the Dementors would suck out of him instantly. And so, with a heavy heart, Sirius quashes every thought out of his mind, in favour of the blank canvas of nothingness that shrouds his mind every night.

At least that doesn't hurt him.

As the lids close over his expressionless, ebony black eyes, there's the briefest pang of regret that he _didn't_ change his lifestyle, that he did everything as a bachelor, always in the belief that friendship _always_ outlasts relationships…but, before he can then regret feeling anything, consciousness is taken from him.

And, inside the dream, he wakes up.

It's the strangest sensation; after all, he hasn't had a chance to dream in years, hasn't been able to summon the feeling inside of him to have anything left over from the fight to make it through the day with his thoughts still intact. Yet today…today, he does. Today, he's someplace _not_ Azkaban, somewhere he can explore and inquire about - for the length of his dream, this is. There's confusion in the air as to what's happened, how he can be dreaming _now_, when he hasn't for so long, but he decides to overlook it - for a limited time, he's _free_. Free from the confinements of Azkaban, free from the control of the Dementors…finally able to _breathe_, really breathe, for the first time since that night when they died.

Sirius narrows his eyes as he looks around the dusty prairie, looking for a clue as to where he is. The blazing sun beats down on his neck, and, as he looks down at his frame, he's well aware that this is one hundred percent a dream; he looks well nourished, relatively neat and tidy, and his hair is cut back to the length it was at James and Lily's wedding. Basically, his appearance is the exact opposite to how it had been mere minutes ago, when he resided in one of the dingy cells in Azkaban, controlled by Dementors.

Something about the nature of the land suggests that it is barren, that it isn't just an extended drought-that the land is _always_ dry. That basically narrows this location to somewhere in the central region of the earth, possibly near to the equator, or the southern hemisphere…so, basically, anywhere besides Europe and parts of Asia. And that is, of course, if it is a real place and he hasn't made it up in his mind, since this is some sort of dream…as proven by the state of his body.

"What the fuck?" he mutters to himself, running a hand through his relatively short hair and letting a short, harsh laugh out. "I'm free from Azkaban, and all I can do is complain to myself that I look like a regular human being, in opposition to some half starved scarecrow. What is _wrong_ with me?"

Suddenly fearful that, if this _is_ a real place, he could be caught talking to himself by someone, he ceases the verbal complaining about his own behaviour and, instead, begins to turn his head rapidly, in attempts to try and pinpoint _any_ landmark that he could remotely recognise, even from pictures, to attempt to build up an image of just where he could be. Unfortunately, he hasn't ever seen the scarce trees before, especially since they all appear the same, with their withered aesthetics, and the prairies seem to stretch as far as the eye can see. In fact, the only break in their dull, dustiness, is the equally dusty, yet tarmac covered road that stretches far into the distance in both Northern and Southern directions.

There isn't a soul in sight, so he feels in his pockets, knowing that if this is a dream, he would _never_ be without his wand. And right he is; in his pocket, his trusted wand is present, the exact one he had taken from him on his entrance into the custody of the Ministry, or at least a direct replica of it. So he whips it out from its position, the solidarity and comfort in holding the only thing that reminds him of his life, the only thing that gives him the knowledge that he can protect himself against anything-and, indeed, find his way to wherever he desires to go, for he must be out here for _some_ reason, right?

"Point me," he murmurs, loosening his grip on his wand to allow it to spin in whatever direction it wants to go in. It rotates rapidly, whirling round and round faster than Sirius can possibly see, the speed causing the shape of the wand to cease being long and narrow; it blurs as it moves its position.

Finally, it sets upon a northerly direction, so Sirius follows towards the road in the opposite direction to where the sun hangs overhead; it burns his head as he walks, but he doesn't complain, because it's the first time he's been in the open air for years.

(It may be a dream, but he doesn't care; it's realistic to him, at least.)

_~x~_

He walks…and he walks…and he walks. The sun begins to dip in the sky and yet there's still nothing anywhere to Sirius' eye, at least. Gone is the chipper Marauder spirit revived from being free from Azkaban; as the hours pass, and the hunger in his stomach begins to grow, he begins to regret his decision to follow the logic that said that he should follow _why_ he is in the middle of a desert. That's what it is: such large stretches of barren land, without so much as an animal in sight, can't be called anything but. The signs on the road give him the opinion that he's in America – the Deep South, probably – but he can't be sure; all he's aware is that it's an English speaking country, so could conceivably even be Australia.

All the thinking is making his head hurt, and, as he walks, he begins to conk out from the situation around him; scenery blurs together, due to its "samey" appearance, and he doesn't notice as he approaches the very beginning of civilisation; it's not much, just sounds of cars and machinery, and the possibility of seeing buildings in the very far distance, just along the horizon.

Suddenly, his eyes refocus on the present – or whatever the present is in this dream – and he realises that there's finally a town before him; there are lights shining through the darkening sky, standing out against the sanguine red and deep purple colouring of the sky currently.

"Shit," Sirius mutters, realising that, amidst his realisation that there _are_ people in the middle of nowhere, he didn't spot the welcoming sign for the town because it's not lit up.

Lighting his wand at the same time as rubbing his head, Sirius raises his wand to analyse the words on the sign: **WELCOME TO MORGANVILLE.** Somewhere he's never heard of before – so, in this extremely realistic dream that basically feels as though he's living another life, Sirius is basically wandering the world in his dreams.

"This is normal," he says to himself, deciding that he's been going crazy enough in the past few years; talking to himself is basically nothing compared to what he's gone through since being thrown into Azkaban. "I'm wandering the world in my dreams. And now I'm at somewhere called Morganville, probably filled with weirdos who want to live in the middle of the American desert." Noticing in the bottom corner of the sign, he spots the words, "**Texas, USA**," and realises that his first inkling was right – he's in America.

He takes a step forwards and heads over the boarder into the town, realising that the lights he thinks he can see are far away in the distance, basically meaning that the outskirts of the town are submerged in darkness. Raising his wand higher to light the way, Sirius advances into a town that has, all of a sudden, turned from being highlighted by the sun, into a world of shadows and darkness; he's not sure _why_ he's here, but his curiosity is piqued by the solemnity of the outskirts of this town. It's not past about eight pm, he doesn't think, so he doesn't understand where all the young people are. When _he_ was free, before he devoted the final year or so to destroying Voldemort, he _seriously_ enjoyed a good party – so where _is_ everybody? It's more like a ghost-town to Sirius, at least on the outskirts, and, as he takes more and more steps into the silent area, he begins to wonder if there is anyone _here_.

It could be one of those places where everyone spends their nights in the centre; but, as he walks past one of the blocks he presumes is housing, Sirius spots a young woman at the curtain. Her hand pauses as she catches a glimpse of his standing there, looking at her, his face lit by the wand-light, and she looks _horrified_. He doesn't understand why; what's wrong with seeing someone on the pavement at night? But, as the curtain suddenly shuts and the light in the room turned off, he begins to get the feeling that there is something _very_ wrong in Morganville.

"Either you have a death wish, or you're a visitor in Morganville." A voice behind Sirius startles him, and he jumps around, his wand pointing directly at the source of the voice. The figure is a young man, seeming almost his age, and his skin is paler than anyone Sirius has ever seen; he's paler even than Bellatrix, his cousin, which is astonishing, because it's been remarked that she's one of the palest people in the entire world.

"What makes you say that?" Sirius is, naturally, cocky as he replies, raising an eyebrow as he challenges the man before him. It should be an unfair fight, something he's relishing being on _his_ side for once, as he's a wizard and this man is most likely a Muggle who has never seen magic before, yet there's a glint in the eyes of the his counterpart that makes him look strangely dangerous.

"Because you're in _our_ town at night," the man replies, sending the first wave of apprehension through Sirius. Maybe he was sent here, in his dreams, to be the hero, to be someone who could destroy a fascist regime of some sort, to try and make up for his failings in real life. Maybe he'll be trapped here until he succeeds in doing something impossible; maybe it's a test to see if he deserves to keep the knowledge of his innocence as he returns to Azkaban, as he most certainly will at the end of this dream. The possibilities are endless…and, yet, the adrenaline that follows the apprehension makes Sirius realise that he's _strong_; he may not have used magic in years with a wand, yet he's sure he's proficient enough to destroy whatever this man is.

"Wow, you're really something, aren't you?" Sirius shoots at the man, his black eyes glittering with the light from his wand. "You've managed to tell me that it's night – something pretty obvious through the fact that it's _dark_. And, more than that, you're now threatening me _because_ it's dark…and you seem to think you own this town, Morganville, right? This is seriously the funniest thing I've heard in a _long_ time, believe me," he ends up laughing, unable to stop himself letting out his feelings on just how _ridiculous_ this all is. He's been in the town for maybe twenty minutes now, and his first contact with a person who isn't devoid of any happy thoughts (though he's beginning to think that this man is just as crazy as some of the longest serving Azkaban inmates) isn't going as well as he had hoped. Well, at least he got a laugh out of it.

Unfortunately, his opponent doesn't take it well; the glint in his eye takes on a more sinister edge, if such a thing is possible, and there's a litheness in the way he takes a step closer to Sirius that shouldn't be there. Things including his unnatural pallor, the glint in his eyes, the way that he approached him so quietly…they all equate to something in his mind that he doesn't believe possible – after all, there are hardly any vampires in the world! Why would there be one in a town as remote as _Morganville_?

"You've just messed with the wrong person, sunshine," the man says, and the sliding down of fangs from a previously hidden place confirms Sirius's thoughts that he _is_ a vampire. In his dream, he's had the misfortune of having to protect the town against a vampire…which, actually, shouldn't be too hard. "_Vampires_ roam the streets of Morganville at night…and all you've done is piss one of us off. Which you're not going to walk away from, even with that light up stick." As he motions towards the wand, Sirius feels an internal wave of relief that the vampire hasn't realised that he's a wizard; it'll make the attack so much sweeter.

"Then you're more than extremely mistaken, if you think you're going to take me down," he replies arrogantly, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the vampire. "Let me guess, your name is Jean Paul, and you're just trying to be an English native as you don't want people to know that you're a deserter of the Ministry's Aurors," he continues, trying to distract the vampire for a second as he prepares spells in his mind for a quick succession.

It works; the vampire may have more life experience, and be extremely mean, but he doesn't understand anything about Jean Paul, and the controversy that surrounds him about his desertion of the Aurors in the weeks before Voldemort's fall from power. "What do you mean? My name is Brandon, not that you need to know that," the vampire responds, and Sirius smiles slightly.

"Then it gives me great pleasure to do _this_, Brandon," Sirius says, flicking his wand upwards, to cause the ball of light to hover there, so he can actually see what he's doing. "Incarcerous!" he decides to be dramatic as he yells this, ropes shooting out the end of his wand, even as the vampire advances towards him. The lightning fast reflexes of Brandon merely aid Sirius, however, driving him closer to the ropes, and meaning that more attach themselves to him.

"CODE RED!" Brandon screeches, the ropes not preventing him talking, and he begins to start destroying them. All Sirius does is laugh; he's confident enough not to bother trying to tie the vampire up any further, and merely laughs at the attempts by the vampire to bring in reinforcements…reinforcements that are suddenly standing at the end of the street, beneath a suddenly lit oil lamp.

Even as he flicks his wand to bind some of them and drive others away, he realises that this could be a long night.

_~x~_

Far on the other side of town, sitting in her exquisitely decorated office, Amelie receives a visitor, someone anxious for her to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Ma'am, there is an _illegal visitor_ in town," he utters with the utmost severity in his voice, his eyes respectfully lingering on the carpet.

"Carter, I gathered that from the first fifteen times you have informed me of this in the past three minutes," she replies sharply, the cold tone giving way ever so slightly to a burning inferno of anger, that a _vampire_ servant could be so incompetent. "Since we have contingency plans in place for if this occurs, what is the result thus far?" deciding that the servant has no chance of being able to relay such information to her without her prodding, she embarks upon a most heinously boring inquisition of someone who ought to have all this information ready for her.

As the man gathers his thoughts together, she heaves a slight sigh, something ladylike, yet enough to show her distaste and displeasure at the situation, and her eyes lock on the window in the far corner. Opened due to the lack of danger from the sun's rays, not even a pane of glass separates her from the creamy colour of the half moon, perfectly formed, even to her strong eyes. She's aware that there must be discrepancies in the shape, anomalies in the perfect sphere shape she sees on a full moon night, yet she doesn't spot these; there's even a limit to vampire powers, after all.

"Uh, ma'am, well, Brandon immediately headed over there to strike out the stranger, and, if amiable, to deal with him accordingly. He also set up a force of ten other vampires to aid him, if, by some strange fluke, the stranger was able to attack him." when finished, Carter looks back down to the floor, having managed to look at Amelie's desk as he spoke to her.

"What is the status report _presently_, Carter?" Amelie presses her fingers together and shoots a dirty look at the man standing before her, something she knows he won't see, for he isn't even looking at her. They never do. Part of being in her position means that fear grips those before her, and she could do anything and yet they would not notice; they dare not look at her.

"Er…well, one moment, ma'am," he murmurs, looking across at the open door, where another man is standing. His gaze rising to Amelie for the briefest of moments to ascertain whether he can discover the facts, he runs to the door and collects the piece of paper, before dashing back to the centre of the office.

"Well?" she has to press, as the vampire continues to stand before her, reading the piece of paper. "Carter, if you wish to still remain in my service, you _will_ inform me of the status of this breach of our security _now_," her tone takes a deathly edge to it, one which is equivalent to Carter being skewered on razors.

"Uh, ma'am, apparently the support unit has been called in, and even _they_ seem to be unable to incapacitate the stranger." Carter looks up at his Founder, daring to look fleetingly at her face, to see what she desires him to do.

"Gather my guards," she orders suddenly, standing up fluidly, "If Brandon is unable to control this, _I_ shall have to intervene. But, mark my words, Carter; this will _not_ happen again. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," he squeaks, extremely undignified for a vampire, before scurrying away in the opposite direction to where she walks, in order to call her guards.

Amelie catches sight of her appearance in the mirror, and, for a second, pauses before it; her hair is tied back tightly in a bun; her body is encased in a neutral coloured suit, the complete opposite to the fashion of the current decade of the eighties. Before she can contemplate _admiring_ herself, her guards appear, ready to escort her to the site of where the intruder is fighting her people…and, apparently, _winning_.

**.**

Within mere minutes, she is arriving at the scene, striding forwards purposefully, her guards behind her, as per her requests. She can hear the fight before she can see it, grunts issuing from her vampires that wouldn't normally be uttered; the sounds of them ripping apart at bindings that they shouldn't be incarcerated in. Everything is strange to Amelie's ears, foreign, unknown circumstances before her, and she rounds the corner to see merely two of her vampires still standing against a…_human_.

One solitary human, someone with _much_ too long hair and a certain sharpness about his face, has incapacitated nine of her strongest vampires – and there isn't a scratch on him, at least as far as she can see. She stops suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she watches a strange bubble issue from a stick within the man's hand, encasing him and only him. It's nothing she's ever seen before, and she decides to approach, moving with a grace that has all the fallen vampire staring at her as she walks.

Her pale skin merges with her pale blonde hair, there being no ability to distinguish between them; everything about her is pale, from her body to her clothes, and yet she doesn't fade into the background; she shines, brighter than anything, and she's aware that the man realises that she is present.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asks in clipped tones, her eyes boring holes into the intruder's face as he turns to face her. "Who are you? What right do you feel you have, being in my town? Why are you incapacitating my people?"

There's a brief flicker of something in his face that confuses her, his eyes looking her up and down in such a manner that she feels almost violated – something which doesn't help her keep her temper. She merely takes a relatively deep breath, for a vampire, and stares at the man, waiting for his lips to move, for him to reveal at least _some_ information about what he is.

The silence stretches out between them, a long period of absolutely nothing besides the odd flicker and spark from the end of the stick in the man's hand, something which confuses her further; how can one piece of wood be doing so much? She's worrying for a moment that they're at an impasse, that he won't tell her anything, that she'll be forced to attack him herself and destroy him…something which worries her, because, underneath the appalling her and sharp features, she sees something astronomically handsome.

"Tell those vampires to stand down, and I will tell you everything." Finally, she gets a response from the man, his hand tightening reflexively around the stick in his hand, as though it is greatly precious to him.

Internally breathing a sigh of relief, Amelie makes a motion to the two remaining vampires, both of whom appear vexed, and they disappear from the scene, merging into the darkness that shrouds most of the street.

"My name is Sirius Black," the man speaks his name, and Amelie recognises the English accent rather late, merely noting it through the pronunciation of certain vowel sounds. "And, as for the rest of my story, I'm presuming you're intrigued by this," he motions to his wand as he speaks, her eyes following the movement of the stick for fear that he could mean to harm _her_ with it, yet he does nothing of the sort.

"Intrigue is a word that I would imagine too weak to explain my interest in knowing what it is and what its purpose is," she replies, her voice cool and sharp, every part of being a good leader that she can think of being put into play as she stares at the stranger. "If you are amiable, you may return with me to my office, a secure location where we are able to converse about events that have occurred, and such."

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he looks at her, even as his mouth stretches into a grin which confuses Amelie; why is he grinning at her? It's enough to make the faintest blush appear in her vampire cheeks, something which confuses her, since it hasn't happened since before she pushed Sam away, all those years ago. She hasn't had the chance to feel emotion since then; or, at least, emotions which make her want to react in similar ways to how those human teenage girls appear to react, in her experience.

"I want assurance that none of you will attack me, since you're not the friendliest race of beings, are you?" he stands square onto Amelie, merely three or four metres away, challenging her. The first challenger to the immense power she possesses..and he's human. Of course.

"You shall, naturally, have this assurance," she says, the smallest, tightest smile sliding onto her face, for all she wants is for him to return with her, for her to find out _what_ he is…and, perhaps, even to converse with him for leisure. For the first time in decades, there's someone she may consider herself partial to, someone new and fresh…and dangerous. "If you would like to follow me, I can ensure that we are entirely alone, even without my guards." Rashly, she promises to leave her guards behind, something which causes a stir behind her, with those aforementioned guards, yet she ignores everything. She is merely focused on the man before her.

Finally, he responds; he likes to take his time, she notices bitterly, as though to make her hesitate as to whether or not he will respond. "Sure. That sounds great."

She waits for him to step forwards closer to her, yet wonders slightly why there is a continuing glowing protective sphere encircling his body; but, she considers with a slight smile, she will understand _what_ it is when she understands this stranger, someone she ought to hate and be destroying.

Instead, she has the desire to talk to him.

Something which, in her history, shows where she wants to take things.

_~x~_

Sirius follows behind the woman slightly, realising slightly late that he didn't ask _her_ name when she requested his; but, he decides with a wicked side to his humour, he can direct the conversation in this office of hers…and see how far he can push a vampire female.

Soon after, they're settled in the office, the woman in a really rather comfortable looking chair in opposition to his harder, wooden version.

"So, Mr Black, would you care to-" she begins to talk, yet he holds a hand up for silence, wondering how she will react. His eyes glitter as he watches a displeased look flash across her face, she being unable to restrain herself from showing emotion, and he lets out a short laugh, the only thing that remains the same from his true self. His laugh changed in Azkaban, becoming shorter and harsher, and it's the one thing that makes him aware one hundred percent that this _is_ a dream; he's got his real life to go back to, whenever he wakes up from this.

It seems too real for him, though, and he's left wondering if he's somehow been transported through the dimensions of space and time, transported to live a life here in his dreamworld from his _true_ life.

"We haven't had proper introductions yet," he reminds her with a grin that shows all his teeth, in their shining glory. "_Your_ name remains a mystery to me, something I don't appreciate when it's the name of a pretty woman."

He has the pleasure of seeing the faintest colouring of her cheeks, something which amazes him because they never discussed in DADA that vampires could blush; then again, they didn't mention that there is most likely a town of vampires in the world, since this seems too real to be entirely dreams.

"I…flattery of such common and degrading terms is not how to communicate with me, Mr Black; I am the Founder of this town," she informs him stiffly, forcing her skin back to its usual pallor. "My name is Amelie, though if you deign to inform anyone else of this, you will be severely dealt with."

He considers this a moment, before the grin fades from his lips and his entire expression becomes sombre. He ignores her dig at how he started out, and instead asks a question which could make things much clearer. "What is the date here? Do you _live_, or is this entirely made up in my head?" he demands of her, his tone becoming as urgent as her own was when they first met.

"It is the thirteenth of July, nineteen eighty three, and this _is_ real. I have been a vampire in this world for many centuries now," she informs him, though he can't be sure if she's telling him this, or if it is his imagination that is directing what is happening. He can't decide; it doesn't seem fake, yet…it's inside his head, right? His _real_ body is in Azkaban, in a deep state of sleep, and yet he's sitting here, talking to a vampire who is apparently the head of a town, which he suspects is vampire infested.

He's becoming more and more confused as to what is reality and what is fantasy – or, whether there is the off chance that they are _both_ reality; there is magic in the world, remember – and so he decides he needs a few minutes before he informs Amelie of what's going on. So he tries to play the confident, slightly arrogant boy who he was at Hogwarts, making it his mission to try and make the icy vampire fall in love with him. He doubts it will happen, especially in one night, though he can't help but think that there is a chance, right?

"I want food," he says simply, looking her right in the face. He can tell that she's confused by the way that he's looking at her in such a way, that he considers himself an equal to her, and this reflects in the silence.

"Food?" she repeats uncertainly. "You were supposed to be informing me what you _are_ and how you happen to be here…and you want _food_?"

"Hey, I was walking in that desert out there for _hours,_ love; I think I deserve some food before I tell you my entire story, most of which confuses myself as to where I am," he shrugs his shoulders, twirling the wand around in his fingers as he looks at her with a grin. Her response to being called "love" is as he imagined; her shoulders tense, her face hardens, and he can tell that he would be dead if she hadn't sworn she wouldn't hurt him.

_Some people are just so impatient_, he can't help but think with a grin, confidence oozing from him, because she is hot and he's hot and he's pretty sure he'll get her. Well, he would if he lived here, if they met more than this one time, as, after this strange out-of-body experience thing he thinks he's having, because he's not going to come back. He doubts it, anyway.

"Very well," she manages to utter and presses a button on a speaker phone, to instruct that she desires _food_ for her _visitor_, and he is human. All the while, Sirius sits in his seat and observes the woman, realising that she is quite similar to his type, if not for the fangs, though he could probably get over that, since she could be the only woman he ever kisses again, if he has the balls to do it.

He doubts it, though. There's only _so_ much he thinks he can push before she looses it with him.

**.**

Within the next fifteen minutes, he's eaten as much rich food as he can manage – after, naturally, discreetly testing the food for poison – and Sirius is ready to tell Amelie exactly what he is, in an attempt to try and discover why he's here; he continues to be confused just as to _why_ he's dreaming, yet his body in two different places at once. He's sure that he hasn't left his cell, given the entirely different physique of him, yet he doesn't have the ability to wrap his head around the complexity of the situation.

"Well?" she raises an eyebrow, as though she isn't used to being forced to wait for someone else, and Sirius thinks internally that he's going to make her fall in love with him if he ever returns. "I see no need for your rather guarded smile, Mr Black, so therefore would you _please_ commence your tale, before I lose my temper."

He realises that he's grinning once more, something which doesn't really startle him, in all honesty, since he's making the most of being out of that hellhole, so he nods. Unlike the rest of her visitors, he continues to look at her, something he realises that she finds disconcerting, given that she is used to others considering _her_ as their better.

"In its simplest form, I'm a wizard," he doesn't bother with any introduction that may make her more able to understand this information; he simply gives her it without warning. After all, she's a vampire – if she doesn't believe in other types of magical creature, then she is a _very_ naïve, though dangerous, woman.

"A wizard," she repeats, though with a tad of uncertainty, her eyes narrowing as she considers the man before her. He can see the movement of her eyes, see how she is looking up and down his visible figure (and he won't argue that he doesn't find it flattering, because there's something in someone with her looks looking at you, right?) and knows that she can accept that there are wizards in the world; he can tell she's just struggling to contemplate how _he_ could be a wizard.

"Yes, you know, magic, we carry wands, basically have a jolly time besides when Dark wizards want to try and take over," he replies, slightly sarcastic in his response, because, hey, that's Sirius Black for you, isn't it? "We're in every country in the world, and Hogwarts is _the_ best wizarding school in the world; even though our two nearest rivals would dispute that, we are."

She considers him slowly, her hands pressing together beneath her chin as she leans forwards slightly. "Show me." her request is quiet, there being no need to shout or be exuberant in her manner; the authoritative manner in which she speaks is enough.

"Yes, ma'am," he salutes her, in the manner people use when they don't really want to do something, before then waving his wand and using non-verbal magic to cause the roof to disappear. There isn't any mess; it simply vanishes into mid-air, causing the moon and stars to shine down directly into the room.

Amelie stands up instantly, her movements missed by Sirius and his human eyes, with her eyes focused on the night sky above her. A constellation of stars hangs directly above the makeshift window, stunning the female vampire into complete silence, unable to contemplate uttering a single word as she realises just what he can do.

Finally, she tears her eyes away from the sky to look once again at the man in the room, the one so completely different from Sam. Not only in their physical state – naturally there are difference, since Sam is ginger and Sirius is black-haired, but he's also more muscular than her previous lover – but in his personality; he's less likely to bend to her will, more likely to challenge her, and is…cockier, she decides is the most befitting word to sum up his personality.

"Why are you here?" she asks simply, the most obvious question being the last one she thinks of, naturally; then again, when has she been the most logical of thinkers? Her tone is less frigid than before, more accepting, as she begins to piece together the events that have happened – and it isn't as if he is a new resident in town, is it? When he could quite easily destroy her, she's sure of it, what is the purpose in being so carefully distant, especially as she is positive that he can see through her?

(The decision is _nothing_ to do with the way that she, internally, finds him rather attractive, of course.)

Sirius shrugs his shoulders slightly, his eyes clouding over before he looks away from Amelie and up at the open sky; it's soothing to him, something that has worked ever since he was a small child, and it is with regret that he replaces the roof above them. "I don't know. I…I was asleep, in my cell, and I _dreamed_. For the first time since…since I was imprisoned, I dreamed. And this is where I ended up."

The mask slides back over Amelie's face, as she processes that this man is a criminal, someone who she probably should be afraid of, given that the wizarding world felt him dangerous enough to lock up. Though she appreciates that there _are_ some people who are falsely imprisoned – she's aware of enough in Morganville, though she tries to block them out from her mind – the majority deserve to be removed from society, and this opinion is evident by the sudden return of her perfect, distant façade.

"I see…a criminal," she manages to utter, twisting her mouth ever so slightly to pronounce the final word, and Sirius instantly recognises where her thoughts have headed.

So he decides to tell her his entire story. From the beginning, through the middle, until the sorry end…and, for the first time, he hopes that she'll listen, that she'll take him seriously.

(Love at first sight really does happen, huh?)

_~x~_

Towards the early hours of the morning, he's ran out of things to tell her about his real life, and she's unaware of anything else that the man could be interested in about Morganville.

"Well…do you know when you shall return to your real body…Sirius?" her mouth struggles to comprehend the way that she is addressing him by his first name, as per his fifteen hundredth request, given that everyone but _Sam_ is addressed by their surname by herself. Even though she hates to admit it, even though she knows they've known one another for mere _hours_ (and a great proportion of that time she has felt contempt and hatred intermingled by the strangest sense of _desire_ for him), it's the first time that she's been able to talk, _really_ talk, to someone in decades, since she turned Sam, and she finds herself relishing the situation. Part of her wants to make sure that he doesn't leave, even though she's aware that this is just a temporary place for him, that he'll return to his real life at some unknown point. When exactly, she doesn't know, and she comprehends that he's not entirely aware either, so she's going to make use of the time that they have together, even if they happen never to meet again.

"I don't know," he confirms her opinion that he's in the dark as much as she is, a slight smile on his lips. "All I know is that it isn't the length of my usual night's sleep," he adds on the end, reclining backwards in the chaise lounge he conjured for himself once Amelie was certain that he _wasn't_ a mass-murderer.

Her brow furrows in confusion as to how he can be aware of this, since, evidently, his body's space sense is slightly addled, so therefore his time dimension could be also. "And you are aware of this _how_?" she asks, taking a slight sip of the drink before her. In usual circumstances, she would never _dream_ of taking refreshment with a visitor present, yet she is almost a different person with Sirius; he's young, refreshing, _different_…perhaps she could even go as far to call him the same as Sam, through the way that he's her new confidant…and, possibly, something more.

(Of course, the latter part of her thoughts are only applicable if she sees him more than this once, for she would _never_ fall in love with someone, on just the one meeting, with them never meeting ever again. That would be idiotic, stupid, _rash_ – all three, things that Amelie would never consider herself doing.)

"The time zone that Azkaban is in is greatly in front of Texas's," Sirius explains with a smile, the grin seeming etched on his face. It's effortless for him to talk to her, just like it was in Hogwarts with all the girls, and he's never going to forget that he challenged himself to make her love him – even if they become friends, that'll be his goal. "I wake up at five am every day, regardless of the month, to watch for the sunrise. It's the only spark of beauty in the entire prison, so I relish it. And, anyway, I'm a genius, Amelie, I thought we'd covered that?" he's confident bordering on arrogant as he talks, stretching out on the sofa. However, as his arms fall into place behind his head, he begins to realise just _how_ long he has been awake, even in this dream world.

It's the final piece of evidence that brings him wholly to the conclusion that he's living a life within the dream; it's a second chance for him, almost, a chance for him to live a life in America, just as he may have done if he hadn't been arrested. To sleep is to dream again, and it's going to end with him dreaming within a dream, most likely, something which he can barely comprehend, especially with his sleep deficient mind.

Amelie realises that he's tired at the same time as he does, her brain moving much more quickly towards the decision that he must sleep, that if he is here in the morning, they can converse further. She desires a few hours to herself, at least, for whilst she appreciates the chance at invigorating conversation, it's such a change from her design of the past thirty or so years, that she can't help but feel slightly pressured by it.

"There is a guest bedroom three doors down, if you desire to sleep?" she asks him softly, her voice slightly quieter than before, yet by no means less friendly than it has been for the last number of hours.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure whether or not to accept the offer, due to the continued fear of his safety – and, also, whether he'll be _able_ to sleep within a dream – but he finally accepts, a smile on his face as he does so.

She takes him down to the room without another word, deigning to not use a servant to lead the way, for she's fearful of frightening him away; he doesn't seem comfortable with vampires, and she's tried to do everything to make him forget what _she_ is, masking her speed and reactions as much as possible. He still doesn't know _why_ his dream brought him to Morganville, to her, and she internally doubts that it's ever going to be discovered why he's here, and how it came about.

(Something tells her that her heart doesn't care _why_ he's here, especially if he stays much longer.)

"If you open the door when you wish to have breakfast, I shall ensure that there is adequate food sent right in," she informs him with a small smile, wondering what to say and do not, especially as he appears to be falling asleep on his feet. "I shall leave you to sleep, Sirius. Goodnight." And, with this, she is out of the room before he can even blink, unsure how to act with men, for her experience with talking to _anyone_ in a friendly manner has been severely diminished since Myrnin fell afoul of the disease, and she broke off her relationship with Sam for his protection.

The door shuts silently, fitting into the doorframe as though it had never been parted, and Amelie can hear the man she has known for mere hours, fall into the bed. A soft snore within seconds proves she was right; he was dead on his feet. But, she can't help but feel as though she has known him longer than the few hours she _has_ known him; there is something about Sirius Black that entices her, though perhaps dangerously – for he can't be here _that_ much longer, can he? – and she's aware that the feelings she feels are entirely improper. Not only are they sudden and without reason for being felt, she can't help but remember that she's supposed to love _Sam Glass_ – something she does, of course, but it's nowhere near as close to the forefront of her mind as before.

She sinks into her office chair and tries to arrange her thoughts into a manner that is at least _semi-_logical, but she doesn't succeed – nowhere close. Everything is scattered, confused, scrambled, and she doesn't understand what has happened over the course of the past day, other than that any plans she had are to be put on hold until Sirius Black leaves Morganville – though whether it will be for good stands to be discovered.

_~x~_

Days pass, and yet Sirius doesn't go back to Azkaban. He doesn't understand how he could have been asleep so long and yet not had to eat or drink in his _real_ body, but then he begins to contemplate the idea that maybe this is different because he's moved through something so complex that he could never begin to understand; after all, that wouldn't be hard, would it? _Magic_ itself works in strange ways; so why, therefore, would it be implausible for this scenario to be unexplainable?

He doesn't waste this time of being in Morganville merely waiting for the moment to come around where he is returned to his life – no, he spends it with Amelie, talking, laughing, trying to fulfil that half joking promise he made himself that she would fall in love with him.

(He just doesn't realise that he's going to most likely fall in love with her, if the current situation continues.)

From the moment he wakes up until the moment he goes to bed, almost, he decides he may as well spend with Amelie, beginning to contemplate understanding how vampires work, how they can feel – but to understand how ruthless and dangerous they are. They're a race he's never contemplated knowing much about, never having the desire to go into the study of the creatures he learned about in Hogwarts, and now he's beginning to understand that they – or at least Amelie is – are more complex than he gave them credit for.

As well as him learning about vampires, he teaches Amelie about magic, explains the set up at Hogwarts, the situation with the Dark wizards of the last century and everything else that seems pertinent. He displays magic, laughs when she tries (and fails) to use his wand to cast a spell, and even changes a few things in her office to more suitable items, things she wouldn't have been able to get.

They discuss the humans in Morganville, Amelie explaining things that are pertinent to wizards as well, for they're still human, and Sirius describing how they are called Muggles to him, non-magic folk who often live next to magical families yet never realise it.

It's his last night in Morganville, though neither of them knows it, and they do what they have done for the past six or so evenings: sit in her lounge, adjacent to the office, and do whatever takes their fancy. He's gotten her back into eating more food, though she has barely eaten a morsel for the past millennia (apart from with Sam, not that she's going to mention _that_) and hasn't particularly missed food.

She's beginning to become attracted to him, even more than she was before, because she's now able to see that he's beautiful on the inside, strong and brave in the face of adversary if it means that he's protecting his friends. He's confident bordering on arrogant, but she laughs whenever he says something that's sarcastic, rather than react negatively, as she would do to others. He seems almost infectious, someone she can't help but be happy around – there is no room for negativity in his mind and ideas of how people should be. After all, this is something he never, ever imagined, something that has broken up the monotony of being imprisoned in the soulless (after all, their souls don't belong to them anymore in there, not really) Azkaban for the rest of his life.

"Are you scared to go back?" Amelie finds herself asking him the most personal question she thinks she's asked him, one to do with his personal feelings – no joking can get him out of this. She's trying to see if his soul really _is_ as clear as she thinks it is, because how could _this_ Sirius Black not have a soul? As she speaks, Amelie realises that she _wants_ him to be scared, because she wants him to desire to stay here, with her, crave to stay and make their bond stronger, for all its longevity. If he never returns, _she_ has to remember that they shared these few days, a joint passion burning so brightly that it can never be disputed that they _could have become something_, if only they were not hindered by time.

But, as he begins to speak, Amelie realises that she _doesn't_ want him to be scared; it would make her realise that all her perceptions of him were wrong, that she couldn't read just _how_ strong a fighter he really is, and she'd become more amiable to the idea that they may never meet again, once he leaves here.

"I…no, I'm not," he replies, taking a sip of the drink in his hand before looking back at the woman sat beside him. Her hair is, as per usual, scraped back in a bun, yet blonde tendrils have fallen down, framing her face; it seems that personal grooming has lost its appeal, at least for the moment. With her hand resting on the side of her face as she leans into the corner of the sofa slightly, for the first time acting slightly human, her face _looks_ the age he's pretty sure she is – early twenties, maybe…physically, around the same age as him. She has youth and innocence hidden beneath the shrouds of control and power, he's sure of it, and he desires to be given the chance to unlock this mysterious woman…though he doubts he'll have the chance.

"Why?" the word slips from her lips, almost without herself realising, hanging in the air for a few moments. As soon as he looks at her again, the blush a vampire can achieve is flushing her cheeks, her eyes averted from his figure, as they were previously directed. It's embarrassment that lingers in her expression, the way that she holds herself, the darting of her eyes around the room as she tries to find something suitable for them to rest on.

"Why _would_ you be scared of going back to somewhere you know?" he asks her rhetorically, the smile gracing his face turning to become more sinister and haunted. "Whilst I hate to admit it, Azkaban is somewhere that reminds me that people died because I screwed up. It's somewhere that I can understand, because, whilst I detest being locked there with the Dementors, it makes sense to me; that's the comfort of the Wizarding World. Here…this is _your_ world; we exist on the same planet, yet we would never have crossed paths, if it wasn't for whatever spooky thing happened when I fell asleep." His tone is gentler now, more relaxed, yet continuing to have a backbone of bitterness that explains his views towards Azkaban.

She swallows slightly before turning her head back towards Sirius and smiling, her hand twisting into the piece of hair that hangs on the left hand side of her face. "I see what you mean, Sirius, but I…I _am_ going to miss you, when you leave. It is my hope and belief that, if we both desire it, there is a chance you may return to Morganville, if you have another of these…_episodes_," she manages to say, despite a slight lump in her throat; she's not sure why she's so emotional, when her emotions are usually effortlessly concealed, but she is. It's almost as though she has pre-empted that this is his last night with her, as though she has a psychic power that allows _her_ to understand that his time here has been precious – but it is over, after tonight, and that there's more chance of them never meeting again than _of_ them meeting once more.

His eyes bore into hers, unyielding black into softer grey, and there's a stony sense of resolution as he utters the words, "I will always hope to come back here. I promise, Amelie; there's something about this place, about _you_, that makes my heart feel as though it needs to be greater, for us to be together for longer." As he speaks, only part of him is speaking to see if he can succeed in making her love him – it's been enough time, he's sure, as he could swear that there is some wizarding family myth about a girl and a boy who fell in love in a night – because the rest of him wants to make her know that this has been the highlight of his past few years. He's had decent food, a decent bed, clothes on his back, and company so rich and illustrious, that he can't actually imagine the squalor of his cell.

She tears her eyes away, adamant to ensure that she doesn't make it seem like _too_ much of a goodbye, incase he is still here tomorrow, and manages a soft smile, one that suggests she has a secret.

And so they converse the night away, discussing anything and everything that comes to mind, leaving only two subjects entirely out of the picture: his leaving…and Sam.

**.**

She realises that he's younger than he seems when he sleeps, without the stress that lingers in his face almost subconsciously – something she finds out as she slips into his bedroom. There's something she likes about seeing him like this – free from the worries that evidently line his face in those waking hours – and it makes her realise that maybe, just maybe, he could make her happy. If this happened to be his real life, if he didn't have to leave her alone (especially since he's made her so happy in these few days), then maybe they would have a chance. Maybe he could be the new Sam, someone bright and vivacious, someone with the spark that enticed her to Sam – but, unlike her mistake there, she would never turn him.

"Oh, Sirius," she murmurs his name as she steps closer, pulling down slightly on her blouse, in the self conscious way human women do; she's not been nervous for a _long_ time, especially around a human, so why does she have the feeling that she desires to run from the room and think about _anything_ other than Sirius?

Yet she perseveres forwards, pressing through her internal doubts to approach the man in the bed before her. Her fingertip absentmindedly runs lightly up the duvet covering him, her eyes transfixed on his face. With a movement so lithe and quick that every part of it is over with in less than fifteen seconds, Amelie leans forwards and presses her lips to his cheek softly, lingering for a moment before leaning backwards once again.

"Goodnight, Sirius," she whispers in the doorway, turning back to watch him sleep for another moment or so before closing the door gently behind her.

**.**

She returns the next morning.

He's not there.

He's gone…back.

And he's left her. Alone.

_~x~_

There's a sense of desolation stronger than anything else, something that threatens to overcome Sirius as he awakens to find his plush surroundings gone, his most preferred source of information gone – and, instead, replaced with the groaning and moaning of his once again prison mates.

It's like a different world; it _is_ a different world, this being one of despair and fear, never knowing how the next day will go, and Morganville being – though slightly ironically – a centre for peace and happiness. People are harassed there every day, by the vampires, and he wishes that he could do something to help protect his race, but _his_ experience of Morganville was nothing but positive. He didn't _see_ what he knew in his mind must have been happening: the screams, the tearing down of innocent victims after dark, a lack of crime leading to a death sentence…nothing was wrong with Morganville, from his experience.

He cowers in the corner of his cell, blowing onto his hands furiously as the ice cold morning air hits him; out here, in Azkaban, it matters not as to whether or not it's summer or winter, spring or autumn: every single day starts off as though he's spent the night in a freezer, he thinks sharply, and only by mid afternoon do the weak rays of sunlight creep into his cell.

Everything is so surreal; he's been away from this for what seems like a lifetime, experienced edible foods, slept in a _bed_ (not a cot barely three inches above the flagon stone floor) and been able to converse with someone intellectual; he's had a period of time which involved his _brain_, allowed him to stimulate near forgotten regions – the ones that have to think, to contemplate a biting remark – regions lost during Azkaban, where the only thing to be heard is the screaming of other inmates. Life in Morganville and Azkaban are polar opposites, one where he _desires_ to be, the other – which is, unfortunately, his current location – being worse than the fiery depths of hell.

Life is different, Sirius thinks, as he stands up to look out of the crack of window within his cell. He can see the sunrise – something completely different to the one he could see in Amelie's light guarded home. He couldn't sleep past sunrise – or, at least, he couldn't miss its beauty, even in Morganville – and so, every day he was there, he would awaken to watch the sunrise in all its glory, something one million times more beautiful than the one here.

As he stands by the window, Sirius's thoughts turn to Amelie, as he wonders what she's doing right now; it must be the middle of the night in Morganville, so he presumes she's working…and waiting, just waiting, for him to wake up.

Little does she know that he's not there anymore.

**.**

She's Amelie; naturally, she's going to get through this. After all, in all frankness, when _hasn't_ she? With Myrnin, with Oliver, and even with _Sam_; she's never resented her actions- well, perhaps _waveringly_, in particular with Sam – and she's not planning on thinking excessively over a man she knew for a week.

Yet Sirius Black refuses to leave her mind; she's aware that his black haired head is lingering in her thoughts, waiting for a break in her thought tracks to creep back in and make her realise that she's _missing _him. He "left" for his true life three days ago, now, and she's not thought about it – or him – once. Well, not more than once, definitely not…or twice…or maybe three or four times…or maybe just whenever she _stops_ thinking about Sam or whatever work she's doing, _he_ pops in there instead.

She's determined not to make this out to be _love_; her heart is guarded, something that only skilled people can reach – and, even then, they're unable to grasp onto it for very long. It's impossible for a man – and a human, at that – to have reached a position in her life, that means that he's more important than her town, in such a short period of time…it's frankly _absurd_.

And so she sets her pen down, allowing the ink to dry being her excuse to herself for doing such a thing, and closes her eyes, wondering why things have to be so complex. She _desires_ to be able to return to the days when she could merely mourn her relationship with Sam – but those days are more and more infrequent, especially recently, and she's scared that she's never going to get them back. There's a sense of something in her mind that dares to suggest that _she doesn't love Sam enough_; Sam isn't the one that she desires the most. But how can you desire someone you barely know?

Her head spins and spins, blurring emotions and feelings and confusion together to, finally, leave her with a solution: if Sirius is ever to return to town – notably within the next five years – she will consider if these feelings are those of _love_. If not, she forgets that he ever existed, since, from what he told her about Azkaban, he'll be dead by then anyway.

_Who knows? They may make it through._

**.**

Months and months pass, a sea of mundanity that threatens to overcome the pair of them, even in their separate locations, something that makes them both think that maybe they're never meant to meet again. Each night as he falls asleep, Sirius _aches_ to go back to Morganville – never happy memories, due to the presence of the Dementors, but _content_ memories: the ones that leave him yearning to head into that special world of dreams.

(But he wakes up every morning and realises that he's not left Azkaban, that he hasn't experienced a dream - that's really reality - that leaves him clinging onto every single second, in the hope it will keep him sane.)

On the other side of the world, almost, Amelie's the same, to an extent; she's not dreaming to _go_ to Sirius, but more like for Sirius to come to _her_. It's only in her dreams, when her subconscious has no control over what she imagines, that she is weak enough to dream of the man, for whom her feelings are stronger than for every other man she has ever loved combined. He's someone fresh, daring, exciting – and, though she's aware that she'll probably grow _slightly_ bored of him at some point, he's invigorating to her mind. He breeds excitement, change, and even a little fear, because her perfectly organised life is being ripped apart at the seams by someone she ought never to have laid eyes on.

And so, as the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, Amelie waits. She waits for Sirius to return, to see if he actually ever _will_ return and give her the heart the chance to confess what she already knows it feels.

_~x~_

It's almost the summer solstice again, like last year, this one merely being _nineteen eighty four_ in opposition to nineteen eighty three – and nothing, really, is different in either location: Amelie still labours through the boring days of proceeding over a town of hostile inhabitants, whilst Sirius merely fights to keep on _living_ another day of nothingness. The only things that keep him going are the fact that he knows he's innocent, little Harry and the knowledge that it wasn't _just_ a dream, that perhaps he could return to Morganville and realise that the feelings he tried to bring up in her _do_ exist in him as well.

It's wrong for him to admit that there's a chance that he could love a vampire – after all, she's a _vampire_, someone who would have destroyed him if he hadn't the ability to defend himself. Though he saw her as something different, he knows that the vicious streak lies within her, no matter how hard she endeavours to conceal it, and yet he can't help realise that he longs for _her_. All he wants is to make her realise her love for him – if she hasn't already – and maybe, just maybe, allow himself the chance to love her…but on his terms. He'll love her if it suits him, and will just lust after her for the rest of the time, but it'll be on _his_ terms. Unlike Amelie – who he can tell has no control over what she feels – he knows that if he wants to love her, he will…and if he wants to merely admire her, he can. He's equipped with the ability to prioritise the important things in his life, and number one is staying alive. Number two is Harry, his godson, someone who saved the wizarding world and may need to do so again. And only _then_ is Amelie, replacing the face of his old flame, Marlene, before she ran off into the arms of Gideon, and yet he never had the heart to replace her in his heart.

Until now.

But, as Sirius looks out of the window, he realises that it has been a year to the day since he saw Amelie; it's been a year, and nothing has changed. The sun still rises in the east, setting in the west, and there is rarely a ray that warms his cell before the early afternoon. Leaves still fall to cover the ground in autumn and are replenished in spring – and he's still locked in here, trapped, and that's not going to change _ever_, he doesn't think.

And yet he can't help but _hope_ before he goes to sleep that it will happen again tonight, can't help but randomly hope that it is a yearly event and that the chance to spend time with her within a dream will be granted to him. He's mulled over this for the past three hundred and sixty five days; he doesn't understand how they can be in the same world, the same plane, and yet he can spend a week in America and it be the same day when he wakes up in Azkaban. Then again, he doesn't suppose that time could be altered in Azkaban. They change everything else.

As his head touches the rock solid pillow, he wishes for the chance to experience once again the one glimmer of hope within his life. He wishes to be transported to another place, the one that is locked within his heart, and he wants it to be _tonight_.

For the first time in almost one year, he's granted this wish.

**.**

His feet hit solid ground, and, as Sirius looks around, he realises that he's actually just outside of Morganville this time; there's no need for the miles of trekking he undertook last year.

Everything seems _exactly_ as it was when he arrived one year ago, Sirius thinks, his feet moving forwards in the direction of where he headed before, deciding that taking a familiar route would be the safest option in a town ran by, for the most part, unfriendly vampires.

Unlike his arrival the last time, however, Morganville is bustling – or, at least, it is bustling in comparison to the deathly silence of before; it has the edge that makes it stand out as a college town, somewhere with the eclectic vibe necessary to make it at least partially attractive to potential students. He sees people this time, too, going about their daily business, shopping and eating – but never lingering. As he watches everyone who passes him and his slow, meandering walk, he realises that nobody seems to desire to stop, or run across the road and have a casual conversation with a friend; here, every action has a purpose, the main one underpinning _everything_ being survival. In Morganville especially, survival is key – as, obviously, otherwise you die.

He heads towards the area of land in the middle that he vaguely recognises from the snippets of memories not taken from him during the time in Azkaban – as happy memories are _bad_, remember, and so almost everything to do with this place has only just been restored – and realises that the tall, white coloured building is the Elder's Council, where Amelie spends most of her time.

So Sirius heads towards the doors, just to be greeted by a pale figure as soon as he crosses the boundary between the light and the darkness. Of course it is a vampire; who – or what – else would it be?

"What purpose do _you_," the vampire begins, sneering as he looks at Sirius in a condescending manner, "have in coming to the _Elder's Building_? A building for _vampires_; your council is across the road, incase you have forgotten." With each word, Sirius grows more and more angry, barely keeping a lid on his temper as he clenches the wand within his hand all the tighter. He's only just aware that he's wearing exactly what he wore the last time he was here, as though the intervening year never occurred, and he's about to point this out with a smile, before they are interrupted by the arrival of the woman herself.

Agelessly classic, her style ruled by personal preference in opposition to the current trends, Amelie arrives, her white blonde hair piled upon her head. There's a sense of indifference to her expression as she approaches the door, as though she doesn't _quite_ understand why she is greeting a visitor herself, until her eyes lock upon Sirius.

There's a range of emotions that flit across her face, including shock and amazement, before she finally settles on neutral, with a hint of happiness unable to be stopped from shining through. "Sirius," she finally manages to say his name, taking a step towards him, even as he stands outside the building. "How long have you been here? I'm not sure if you're aware, yet it has been exactly one year since you last arrived in Morganville!" the babbling nature of his 'boss' surprises the vampire, for there's a sense that Amelie never speaks to her servants, and he recognises that she hasn't spoken as much as this in the arbitrating year, though Sirius isn't to know this.

"Amelie!" he greets her as exuberantly, his first thoughts registering just how _hot_ she looks; he doesn't go down the path of beauty, or elegance, though he's aware that she is these things. After all, he's still a young man, someone desiring a touch of promiscuity and independence, and analysing women's looks is just something he does. "I know; I've been able to keep track of the date by scratching in a small calendar to the cell wall," he explains, the slight shuffling of his body towards Amelie being halted by the vice grip the vampire has on his arm.

"Lars, please release my dearest friend," Amelie's voice is once again cool and clipped a she speaks to her servant, who immediately complies with her request and removes his hand from Sirius's arm. There's a rush of blood to the arm, as though the intense grip by _Lars_ had cut off his circulation, and it aches for a moment, even as Sirius walks into the building to embrace Amelie.

And so, after a brief exchange of news in the vestibule, the odd-appearing pair of people head towards the sweeping staircase, climbing it as they climb the incline towards her office, in the furthermost corner of the Council building.

As they walk through, Sirius begins to get a feel as to just _how_ big this place is; he never completely understood it before, always exploring under the cover of darkness – and even inside the building, darkness affects the appearance of things: it increases shadows and their density, making them seem much more fearful than they are; the candlelight sheds light in unequal measurements, allocating more light to certain, more prominent articles, whereas those in the back are barely given a second chance; the long, never ending corridors are shortened during the night, left to appear as though their length is diminished – when, in fact, they continue further than he can see.

"What are your plans for this visit, Sirius?" Amelie asks, slightly more formal than before as the almost awkward situation hangs in the air – after all, they grew close _one year ago_. It seems much too long ago, as though it occurred in another lifetime, and she's left wondering whether or not she should be as forward as she desires to be.

In the end, she decides to just bite the bullet and express a proportion of her feelings towards him as she shows him to his room that evening. "I _have _missed you," she murmurs, lingering in the doorway for a moment, before closing it over with a gentle _click_.

(He feels the same way, naturally, but he just doesn't know how to, a) say it…and, b) confess to _himself_ that all those mentions of it just being lust are entirely unfounded.)

**.**

She finds herself watching the clock, aware that she most likely has the one week she had before with Sirius – and that she must make it count more than anything. She can still remember the promise she made to herself, the one that she now believes she can allow to be fulfilled…because he's here, isn't he? He came back in less than the five years she allocated to allowing this stage of her life to be spent on Sirius – and, maybe, she can see if more can be spent with him.

And so, as the night rolls around that is when she _thinks_ he ought to be leaving, she's confident that she's spent her time with him affirming her beliefs…she loves him. It's not a fiery, passionate, burning love that feels the need to stand out and scream, yet nor is it the one that merely festers in the back of her mind before it is too late. It's a mixture of the two: bold and bright enough to be so forward after such a short period of time, yet shy and timid to the point where she has no desire for him to know of her feelings towards him.

"You…you're_ here_!" she can't help but utter in alarm as she walks into his bedroom the morning after she thinks he should have gone, amazed to find him still slumbering in his bed.

"Yes, it appears so, unless the House Elves that work in the kitchens at Azkaban have decided to lead a reform to make my cell as beautiful as this house, with a carbon copy of Amelie in there!" he retorts sarcastically, not being able to be as sharply tongued at such a early hour in the morning.

All she does is narrow her eyes; she has no desire to retort to these comments, though she's well aware that Sirius is the man who will continue to do anything that appears as though it will ant another.

"Hello, Amelie," he begins again, a few minutes later, when it becomes apparent that he's getting no response to his previous reply to her exclamation of shock.

(Little does he know that she's thankful for the silence, since she had prepared herself for his departure, and it's now almost too hard for her to prevent herself spilling important secrets about the love she feels for him.)

"Sirius," she manages to say his name with civility, his name inducing the spreading of a wide smile across her face – the widest she ever smiles, in fact, something that causes Amelie to be worthy of being a supermodel, since she's so pretty. "Are you quite alright this morning?" she manages to get out of her mouth without tripping over any words, her eyes following every minute movement the man in the bed makes, though ceasing when movement occurred beneath the sheets.

"I'm…amazed not to be back in my cell," he admits, a sense of relief evident in his tone, as well as the way that he leans backwards onto his pillows and heaves a sigh of evident relief. "Have you anything planned for me today, or were you as shocked as myself, because you presumed I would no longer be in Morganville by now?"

He's hit the nail right on the head, and she wants to cry as she realises this, because she _has_ nothing! He wasn't supposed to be here! She was supposed to have this day as a chance to get over the way that he's reopened the gate to her heart – that he, and he alone, opened on his prior visit – and yet he's still here, so she's nothing to get over. Her heart is yet to be wrenched from her as his body leaves the town of Morganville for the cell of Azkaban.

Still, she forces a more natural smile, something that makes her seem as though she possesses all the wisdom she could have acquired through her extremely broad life, and she takes a step back towards the door. "I, naturally, was unsure as to whether or not you would be staying after this day, so I decided that, if you _were_ still present, we would merely have a…I believe it is deemed a 'relaxing day' of some sort?" her brow crinkles as she tries to use more modern speech, and isn't entirely sure if it has been used in the right context.

There's the slightest of awkward pauses as her words hang in the air, Sirius not entirely sure how to take them, before he grins with such a manner that everything seems as though they never expected him to be leaving.

(In her heart, she knew that even if his body left her, his spirit would have remained.)

"That sounds bloody perfect," he finally replies, shuffling around in the bed to be in more of a sitting position. It's all Amelie can manage to do to prevent herself from even reacting to his physique, for she's _Amelie_, and since when has she been affected by the aesthetic appearance of others? It's not in her nature to fawn over men, to desire them for their looks alone – as she has shown, time and time again, with the ruthless nature of her attitude towards the men who have loved her.

"Ah…yes, I shall wait for you in my office," she manages to look away, at the wall behind his head, her cheeks flushing the smallest amount as her brain automatically pieces the images of his chest and his face as she kissed him last night together, to form the image that now lingers behind her eyelids. And before he can respond, as per usual, she's gone, shutting the door behind her before he can even say a word in response – though, to be honest, he's rather glad…as he doesn't know _what_ he would have said if she had stayed.

_Why is life so complicated?_

**.**

She doesn't understand what's happening, as time passes – and it seems to go faster and faster with each day that passes, because she knows that it brings him closer and closer to when he goes back to the life he has without her. Soon almost a fortnight has passed, each morning as it was last year, with her heading through to his room to see if he's still in Morganville – or if he's gone back to prison yet.

The image of him that she conjured in her own mind that first…second day – as it was the first day of the second part of his stay in Morganville, when you consider he should have left the day before – reappears at the most inopportune moments, usually when she's unsure whether or not she has been staring at him too long to be noticed. The lean physique of his naked torso startles her still, because she never thought she could ever be affected by someone's _appearance_, as well as what is on the inside. He's changing her – and, as yet, she's still unsure as to whether it is for the better…or the worse.

He feels the same way as he looks at the female vampire before him, unable to _tell_ she's a vampire; there's nothing about her features that suggests that she's anything more than a delicate young woman…in love. Beneath the cautious guard that is at the forefront of her eyes, he can see that there's feelings that he wanted her to feel; he _wanted_ her to fall in love with him, if he ever had the chance to stay here longer than a week, and he's succeeded in his mission. Even as an imprisoned, marked man, he's got the 'skill' and looks to be able to make someone fall in love with him, in the forbidden romance sort of manner – vampire and wizarding relations are non-existent, pretty much, but they aren't the usual wizard and vampire, are they?

As he thinks this through, he realises that he's falling for her at the same time as she's falling for him, because she's always in his thoughts. He's aware that everything about her entices him – besides the blood drinking, naturally – and there's nothing she could do, within reason, that could cause him to change his mind. He's only been here for a short period of time, but he's had dreams about her every single night since he last visited, in nineteen eighty three, and that's what has kept him going through those long days and nights in Azkaban.

Their eyes meet awkwardly, both of them contemplating their identical resolutions simultaneously, black absorbing the grey nature of the other's eyes. Both of them realise that they've got someone staring at them who feels _exactly_ as they do – Sirius recognising this fact slightly faster than Amelie, due to the advantage formed by his knowledge that he _would_ make her fall in love with him – and, as their eyes flicker over one another, they get the feeling that they're discovering new details about the other. Amelie sees a maturity in his face that wasn't even there before, as well as the way that he crosses his legs left over right, rather than right over left; Sirius spots that, when one analyses Amelie, her expression shifts ever so slightly, to become uncomfortable. Under _his_ scrutiny, she's back to a blushing school girl, someone who wants to look away, yet is captured within his eyes so tightly, their connection so unbreakable, that she doesn't dare; it could, after all, break the spell and have his thoughts change to become _anti_ loving her…as these things happen, don't they?

"Sirius," she murmurs his name, wanting to touch him, to reach out and make sure that he _is_ sitting before her, and that he isn't just a figment of her imagination, but she manages to resist it. She's positive that if she touched his skin, she would react in a manner that would embarrass the pair of them, especially if the feelings she _thinks_ she sees in Sirius aren't really there – so she doesn't. All she does is sit and wait, staring into his eyes, and _wish_ for him to reach across and press his lips to hers.

"I…wow, I don't know what to say," he admits, looking away for a second, and hereby breaking the eye contact – and the connection. The awkwardness is more prominent than before, if possible, because both of them _want_ to say what they feel, yet neither have the experience: all he planned on doing was have _her_ fall in love with _him_, and all she's ever known is to hide her emotions from sight of anyone but herself.

The lack of eye contact causes a wave of nervousness to wash over Amelie, and she's unable to stop thoughts running through her head, scenarios where she confesses her love for him, and he tells her that he's married 'back home', even though he's in Azkaban. Even as she thinks the thoughts, she's aware that they're irrational, that there's absolutely no way on this _earth_ Sirius could be married (who, after all, could put up with him?) – but the seeds of doubt have already been planted in her mind. Everything about her thought process is unfounded, falsified by the random nature of her brain piecing together facts in a haphazard manner, and yet it all makes sense within her mind, for Sirius to have relations back home, for him not to love her because she's a vampire – everything has an explanation behind it, a reason for him not to love her back.

"I should go," she murmurs, not entirely sure how she manages to get onto her feet, putting it down to the vampire reflexes she possesses, before finding herself moving towards the door. All she wants to do is to get away, to stop herself doing something she – _they_ – later may regret, and to preserve the situation they currently have. He could leave at any time, and she'd rather leave things at a stalemate, to be contemplated _further_ over the intervening year (for it's _got_ to be yearly, in her mind) than to risk everything on the back of one fleeting moment that wouldn't even particularly _mean_ anything.

"I want to talk to you," Sirius calls out to her, shuffling around reasonably quickly to be standing before she can walk out of the door. At his average pace, he walks across to her frozen figure, the one which stopped moving as soon as he requested for her to stay, and one hand reaches out to shut the door over.

It's rather amusing, the way that he towers over her, his dark, muscular physique the complete opposite to her blonde and petite one – and yet neither of them care as their eyes meet once more. As they do, all of Amelie's doubts fade away to a mere pinprick, and she's reminded that he's probably going to be leaving soon, so she doesn't have anything to forgo, does she?

"I…I…" she stutters, and, naturally, Sirius picks up on this.

"I'm impressed: I've managed to silence the great Amelie," he jokes as he takes a step towards the woman who could destroy him in a second – but, as he's known from almost the first moment, he's aware that she would never hurt him. _Never_ would she be able to do so.

Her eyes narrowing is her only response to his words, she deigning not to reply for fear of breaking the mood that seems to be growing stronger and stronger by the second. This time, however, there's no awkward feeling in the air as she gazes directly into his eyes, and he into hers, because they're both becoming completely aware of the depth of the other's feelings towards them.

She's about to say something meaningful yet mistimed, something which would probably destroy the mood, so Sirius decides to take action to _stop_ her talking; so, therefore, without pausing to consider possible consequences, he closes the final gap between them both, pressing his lips to her own as he does so.

The kiss is sweet, wonderful, _magical_ – something unexpected on both parts, something gentler than anything either of them has ever experienced as a first kiss. It has an underlying sense of passion, yet the first word that comes to mind in both of their heads is _love_ – this is how you kiss someone you love, how you show the person you want to be with how you feel.

After a few moments, he pulls away, yet doesn't take a step back to his original position: he remains in front of her, mere centimetres separating their bodies, and unanimous smiles slide onto their faces.

"I think I may love you, Sirius," Amelie confesses, unable to prevent herself saying this, though it's naturally so early in their newfound relationship. "I am aware that it is much too soon to be informing you of this…but I get the feeling that you won't be back for another year – or this will at least be the case within the next few days – and I didn't want you to return to your home without knowing my feelings." She's slightly stiff with her manner of speaking by the end, desiring with all her heart to reach out and wrap her arms around his neck, in a gentle manner, and for her lips to press to his in order to make those truly magnificent feelings return inside her body.

He smiles wider than his present smile, his hand moving almost of its own accord to rest itself on Amelie's shoulder; he's no longer concerned about touching her without her permission, something which indicates the kind of familiarity he's aware that they have. "I think I love you too, Amelie." _That wasn't part of the plan_, he thinks to himself, not adding it – or even anything similar – for fear that she could misinterpret any words he says and kill him before she realises what he means.

And so, without another word, her lips press to his again, the sweetness overcome by the passion, as the human and the vampire kiss, shared emotions running high and making them both realise that they're both blessed and cursed at the same time.

_They're the modern day, magical version of beauty and the beast._

**.**

He finds himself slipping away. Firstly, his fingers and feet begin to disappear, until it begins to eat away at the rest of him, tingling slightly as his body becomes one with the sofa on which he sits. It doesn't hurt; it doesn't affect him, other than the strange and peculiar nature watching oneself disappear can affect someone.

Only when he's almost gone, when he's returning to his cell in Azkaban, does he remember Amelie, and how he's leaving _her_ now; he was always going to leave her, but now it's Sirius & Amelie together, people who know that they've got the other in their life now (if he ever returns), and he knows that he should have at least _tried_ to get her back to see that he's leaving.

He hasn't got the time.

"Sirius?" Amelie's voice calls through to the office where she left Sirius for five minutes – just five minutes – in order to discuss something with the mayor, her demeanour relaxed because she thinks that Sirius will still be here. There's absolutely no doubt in her mind that he's still going to be here, because where else would he be? It would be appalling timing if his body happened to return to Azkaban _now_, because she's only just told him she loves him – and she hasn't told him enough times, or even said goodbye. She can't go an entire year without having a goodbye scene, she just _can't_.

But he's gone. She can tell as soon as she walks into the office to find everything devoid of his scent that's less than a few minutes old; either he's spontaneously combusted and evaporated into thin air, or he's gone back to Azkaban without even having chance to say goodbye to her.

She can remember what he said before she left the room – of course she can, she's a vampire: even when she doesn't pay attention to events, she hears what's said when she's there.

_I love you, Amelie. I'll always be here, when you want me_.

And all she can do is utter a word she would have censored around town as soon as she founded it, if she had the ability, something so vile and cruel that she's horrified with herself for both using it, and using it to describe _Sirius._

He's left her, and she can only _hope_ that he's going to return next year, since she's one hundred percent confirmed that her immobile heart has been taken with Sirius, and, otherwise, she'd never get it back.

**.**

It's mid December, and Sirius is hunched up in his prison cell, fighting the cold, unwelcoming weather by thinking of Amelie; she's been in his thoughts every moment since he returned from Morganville, managing to achieve this by contemplating her negative aspects. Whilst he's aware _himself_ that they're not really negative aspects, discussing them is the only way to keep _her_ in his thoughts – as, otherwise, the Dementors would steal away every precious memory.

Before, it was only the thoughts of Harry and the way that he saved the Wizarding World, along with his knowledge of being innocent, that kept him sane; now, however, he has the knowledge that _Amelie_ is waiting for him, somewhere in the world. He isn't sure if it is west or east from here, north or south, but Sirius knows that Amelie loves him, more than he loves her, and that she's going to wait for him through the thick and thin.

(Or, at least, he hopes.)

And so, as the wind howls and the rain beats, Sirius imagines the fangs sliding down from the beautiful face of the woman he loves, and yet they don't disfigure her. He doesn't even think her beauty is affected by them. She's still stunning and striking, still Amelie, with her fangs, something he doesn't understand.

Her face lingers in his mind…and his hands warm up. It's only a smidgen, something barely noticeable, but he retains every joule of heat within him, and he can tell that she's warming him up. At least, that's what he thinks she's doing.

**.**

"You're here." Amelie doesn't even need to turn around to know that Sirius is standing in her office, a small smile sliding over her face as she realises that she is about to come face to face with her lover for the first time in almost one year. She's been expecting him, naturally, and it's without disappointment that Sirius is _here_, that she's no longer alone, for a short period of time.

"I know; I figured that when I reappeared in your office," he's flippant as he replies, a grin in his voice that she can decipher without any problem. "I've missed you, Amelie," he continues, taking a step forwards in her direction, reaching backwards to shut her office door over.

It won't make a difference to vampire hearing, she knows, but she doesn't contradict his movement as she turns around to see Sirius Black again, just as stunning as she remembered. He can't _really_ look like this, she knows, because she can tell in his expression that his body is weary, but he is for the moment, and that's all she cares about.

"I missed you, Sirius," she informs him quite easily, standing up and closing the gap between the pair of them in less than a second. For the first time, she understands what people whose partners work overseas feel like when they return from a long time away – relief and excitement jumbled with fear that maybe they've changed in the intervening time period, and they're no longer perfect for the other.

(For Amelie, this doubt is quelled with the pressing of his lips to her own, everything going back to how it was last year as this happens. There's nothing different about _these_ two, at least.)

"I'm starved!" he exclaims, one arm wrapping around Amelie in a manner that seems so natural to them, it's extraordinary that it's the first time that he's ever actually done it.

"There is food already prepared in the dining room for you, Sirius," Amelie smiles, gesturing towards the room on their right, incase he has forgotten the layout of her home since he last came here.

(There's actually a plan drawn out in dust on his cell floor, just so he can always memorise where things are, if he ever gets bored. Something which happens all the time, yet that isn't the issue here.)

"And _this_ is why I love you!" he jokes, and she laughs her tinkling laugh, the one that suggests she has no regrets, but what she doesn't realise is that part of him isn't actually joking.

**.**

The rest of his month long visit passes in a manner that's relaxed, yet structured enough to be deemed a series of dates; they're making up for lost time, trying to get to know _every_ pertinent detail about the other, so there are no shocks later on.

It's nowhere near a conventional relationship, yet there was no chance of that ever happening: after all, when does the male normally come via space and time to a town ran by vampires, to fall in love with the Founder vampire, someone who is over fifteen hundred years old? Neither of them are what would be deemed _normal_, so therefore their relationship cannot have a "normal" slant put on it.

They talk, a lot. They discuss their histories, memories, friends, family, and realise that they've got more than just the basics in common. They're pretty much able to be classed as soulmates, and all it does is make Amelie fall more and more in love with him. She knows that it's probably irrational for her to have fallen _this_ deeply in love with this man, but she can't help realising that she loves him more and more with each day that passes.

He _does_ love her as well, of course he does – he can't go a day without thinking about her, even when she isn't in his immediate eyeshot – but there's a sense that he's still in control. If he wanted to, if he _really_ wanted to, he probably could make himself fall out of love with her, waste all the emotion he's already accumulated, and generally shut her out of his life. He wouldn't, at least not without a purpose, but he likes to think that, in this situation, it is _him_ who has the control – not Amelie. He could kill her in a moment, just as she could kill him, but she's been disarmed by feelings for the first time in her life, he presumes. He loves her, but he could always kill her. If he needed to, he could kill her without hesitation.

But their time together passes without a hitch, and she's more in love than ever, and even Sirius falls further in love with Amelie, merely to a point, but he still does it. He craves her attention and company more and more, realising that he'll have to go without it for another endless period of time before he can return to Morganville, and she's more than happy to give it.

The night she knows he's going to leave her, she tells him that she loves him, and he tells her that he loves her. It reminds them both of past memories: of her wishing Oliver luck as he ran off to war in Ireland, of him saying goodbye to James and Lily the last time he saw them alive, and they're both aware that this is it for another year. Unlike others, who can write to keep in touch, use a telephone in the Muggle world, their connection is severed for the duration of his return to his reality, something that's hard for them both to deal with.

Yet they do it, Sirius managing it easier than Amelie, a few flippant, sarcastic remarks creating a less serious scene as she finds herself being dragged from the room by the pressing concerns of her people. And, during this time, Sirius finds himself returning to his life of being controlled, less sure if he's wholly in control of himself and his emotions, or whether Amelie's worming her way into his self control as well.

He isn't sure if he's going to be stronger than her for many more years to come.

_~x~_

Years pass in the same manner, the two of them waiting for the summer to come around, for Sirius to return to Morganville – for the two of them to be together. As the years pass, it becomes even _more_ confusing as to how it happens, if such a thing could be possible, because time passes when he is in Morganville, yet it doesn't affect the other side of the world, where Sirius is from. They're from the same dimension, Amelie is sure, because "Muggle" issues that Sirius remembers are in common, but neither of them can understand how he can come to her.

Every time he comes, she has a meal ready for him: he's always hungry. Their pattern for the month becomes set: relaxing, eating, talking, discussing news (normally her job, since his information is usually more about Death Eaters and new arrests made, which makes no sense to her whatsoever) and Amelie falling further and further in love with Sirius. He breaks her heart into two whenever he leaves, it usually only repaired when she remembers that he'll be with her once again in only a few months.

And soon, thirteen years has passed since they first met – and neither of them know that, after this trip, things will change for Sirius, because neither of them are psychic.

It's a normal trip to Morganville for him: they chat, kiss, laugh and dance, neither of them particularly caring that now Sirius _looks_ the decade older than Amelie that he is, because the look in his eyes is the same. He's still filled with sharp, witty humour that makes them laugh until they can see stars in their eyes, and she thinks he still looks at her like she's the most beautiful woman in the world.

(He does, and he's even reaching the stage that he thinks that he's almost as irrevocably in love with her as she is with him.)

He manages to make her feel _human_; for the first time in hundreds of years, there isn't the feeling of _us versus them_ in her mind, because Sirius and herself are united as one, so it would be hypocritical to view the entire human race differently, wouldn't it? With him, she doesn't have to worry about being the strongest, or to always be watching her back, because _he's_ here to protect her – in his arms, she feels safe, as though nothing could ever hurt her, and it's a feeling that she wishes she could have throughout the entire year. To feel human, to feel as though the blood running through her body is, in fact, _her_ life source, is something she has desired for centuries, and yet has only just succeeded in fulfilling, thanks to Sirius.

"I will always love you," she whispers on the last night, her eyes firmly fixed on his, her body pressed into his because she craves his warmth. Every second, every movement, every little thing, is locked into her mind in preparation for the time when she knows he'll be leaving her – and his response to her words is, as per usual, filed away also.

"You know I'll love you as well, Amelie," he murmurs, moving to press a kiss to the top of her head, his other arm pulling her into him further. He doesn't mind the coolness of her skin, mainly because he's always ran at a slightly warmer temperature himself, and such a long time with her has caused him not to react to her lack of heat. It's strange, to think he's been in a relationship for more than a decade – though, admittedly, the majority of it spent apart, with absolutely no contact – but he thinks that, maybe, he's able to do it forever, if he wanted to.

Not much later on, he leaves: she can see he's disappearing before he realises it, her eyes sharp for the signs, and so she presses herself into his body as tightly as she can.

"Don't go," she moans, trying to squeeze him as hard as possible to _make him stay!_

Before he can answer, she falls onto the back of the sofa.

He's gone.

_~x~_

Neither of them know that he's never going to come back in his dreams again.

Whilst she wallows in self pity, missing the love of her existence, things are changing in the Wizarding World – or, at least, they're changing for the first time that Sirius has gained recognition of it.

There's the annual inspection of the prison, inspected by the waste of space Minister for Magic, who doesn't seem to understand that Death Eaters continue to be outside of Azkaban, evading arrest, waiting for Voldemort to rise once more – and he's carrying a newspaper.

"Excuse me, Minister," Sirius finds himself speaking to the man as he passes his cell, a look of alarm on his face as the distance between him and the notorious killer becomes smaller. Sirius's voice is croaky, having not used it _here_ in years, it seems, yet he manages to keep it steady and calm, a relatively sane expression on his face (he thinks) to show that he's not crazy. At least, he hopes so: his eyes _must_ be deceiving him, for there cannot be a way that there would be a_ rat_ in a Wizarding family that would be missing a toe, would there?

"Yes, Black?" Fudge looks horrified to be speaking to _Sirius Black_, the one who betrayed his best friends to join forces with Voldemort.

"Would I be able to have a look at your newspaper?" he tries to make it sound more casual, as though he isn't particularly concerned about the contents of it. "It gets rather…_boring_ in here, what with the rather appalling company around me, and I would appreciate the chance to keep up with what has been going on in our world."

Dazed and thoroughly confused as to _why_ Sirius would want his paper, Fudge merely nods and hands out the paper through the bars, wincing as their hands nearly come into contact with one another. "Don't get expecting newspapers in general, Black. You're guilty of conspiring with You-Know-Who to destroy our world, as well as killing Pettigrew. You _deserve_ to be in here."

And, with this, Fudge stalks off, breathing heavily as he understands that he has just spoken to the most dangerous man in here. However, Sirius doesn't care: his focus is directed on the front page. It's a Wizarding family, naturally, but the rat on the youngest boy's shoulder is what attracts his attention first and foremost, before the actual contents of the article.

It shouldn't come as a surprise to him, since he recognised the rat instantly. It's Pettigrew.

For the first time in many, _many_ years, Amelie isn't in his head: he doesn't have a need to think of the woman who he loves, because this scenario is now so much bigger than just his love life. Now, the safety of his Godson – someone who will _always_ mean more to him than a woman – is in jeopardy, a chance of it being destroyed if this rat decides to make his move on Harry whilst he sleeps.

No, now, the situation is entirely wizarding focused. Gone are the dreams of getting out of Azkaban to be with Amelie, Harry tagging alongside him in the summer; now, it's as though there's a dark cloud that hovers over Azkaban even greater than before, because Harry could be in danger.

**.**

It takes weeks to decide how to leave Azkaban, to decide what the best moment would be, but he finally decides to do it, most likely midway through August. Time begins to mean something to him other than counting down to summer once again, because now he doesn't think about Amelie: his realisation that he _needs_ to be able to distance himself from her comes into play, and there's a sense that, otherwise, he would have been in pieces now.

Sirius transforms into his Animagus form and slips through the bars of his cell door, padding down to the entrance as quietly as possible, as to prevent other prisoners spotting sight of him: they wouldn't realise that it was him, yet it would only take a few moments for them to call the Dementors, and for them to realise that his cell is empty. He sticks to the dark, oppressing shadows, slinking through them slowly, until he finally reaches the unguarded point where Ministry officials arrive and depart the island.

He takes a deep breath of air in, air not contaminated by the dank and rotten nature of the prison, and feels refreshed for a moment, especially as his eyes dart up into the sky, to be able to see the full moon for the first time in years. His first thought is of Lupin, and it's with this in his mind that he allows himself to howl loudly in the still night sky, the sound reverberating around the water surrounding the landmass in the middle of the ocean, before his dog body jumps into the crystal clear, cool water.

He begins to swim.

**.**

Within three days, he's back in Europe, sneaking through Turkey's streets to head for Istanbul's wizarding headquarters, the only place he can think of to source a route back to England. He isn't sure if news of his escape will have reached other countries around the world, especially those which have had absolutely no correlation with the Dark Lord and his followers, yet he decides to err on the side of caution, sneaking through the back door in the dead of night, heading for the Minister's office.

It's a dead Ministry at night, similar to the United Kingdom's, and yet it is a near identical layout, even down to the Floo Network room at the far end of the right hand corridor on the second floor, so Sirius heads in this direction. It would cause too much alarm to steal a wand – provided, naturally, that there happened to be a wand floating around – so he decides to wait until he returns to England, where he's sure he can find one of the spare ones he used to have.

Transforming back to a human, Sirius catches sight of his appearance in the mirror hanging beside the fireplace: hair manic, eyes wild and searching, his frame skinny and showing the physical signs of malnutrition – everything the opposite to how he is for one month a year.

His first thought of Amelie in weeks: he wonders what she'd think if she could see him like _this_.

Flooing back to the hideout he created mere days before he was arrested, Sirius realises that things are more different than he could have ever imagined, that his life has gone from being mundane and flawed to fearful and confused – and, yet, he prefers this, the chance to be a hero, rather than be a lovesick man who hadn't a clue what he was doing with his life.

Once again, Amelie is out of his mind.

_~x~_

The next June rolls around, and Amelie is waiting for Sirius on the day he is _supposed_ to come back to her, his usual meal already set out on the table. It's strange to think that her entire life revolves around a _man_, almost, because it used to be that she was the strongest, most independent woman that could ever be found – now, however, Sirius drives every one of her thoughts.

He's not here when he usually is, yet she allows time for him perhaps appearing in a different place and having to travel across to her office – there are road diversions in Morganville, also, so maybe he's struggling to find his way.

Never does she imagine that maybe, just maybe, he's not coming.

(He isn't.)

At this moment in time, he's talking to Harry for the first time since his Godson was a baby, trying to make him understand that he's _not_ the bad guy, and returning to Morganville is the last thing on his mind. He sent off a letter with an owl he found, yet he's not sure if it will have reached Morganville yet, but he doesn't fret about Amelie's feelings – as he realised back in August, when things first started to change, he's no longer as totally in love with Amelie. His life in the Wizarding World has been kickstarted once again, a chance for him to be with his own people and _family_, and loving a woman on the other side of the world isn't something that is particularly his focus at the current moment in time.

She doesn't know this, of course, and when an owl arrives at the window – a great grey owl, one with wings that span wider than the entire window, she presumes – she's thoroughly confused, because why would a _wizard_ be writing to _her_? Sirius is in prison, she thinks, and he would never write to-

_28__th__ May_

_Dear Amelie_

_Don't try and understand how I'm writing to you; it's hard to explain, but I'll do my best when I see you again._

_Things are…different here, partially back to how they were before. I will come back to Morganville as soon as possible, to try and make you understand why I cannot live there with you, now I am free from prison, but I cannot guarantee when._

_I'm not coming now. I'll be there soon, if I can._

_Don't write back; it isn't safe._

_Sirius_

She doesn't understand why he's only writing to her _now_, because she gets the feeling that he's been free from prison for a greater amount of time than merely three or four days, and he's supposed to _love_ her.

Amelie's temper gets the better of her, and she finds herself relinquishing control for the first time in years, because the month that is supposed to make her year isn't happening – and whenever he _does_ come, she gets the feeling that it won't be for a month, or that he'll be particularly focused on her. The words spin around in her mind, _don't write back, I'm not coming, it's not safe_ – they're the words that make her consider that he _doesn't_ love her, that he doesn't need her like she needs him.

The owl is the one to bear the brunt of her anger, his neck broken within seconds as her hands reach out for it, the only living thing in the room. She has never lost her temper like this, never been so out of control that she _truly_ feels like a vampire – never has her appearance been so animalistic, so cruel, so…so _powerful_…and power destined to destroy, not to protect. Power in the wrong hands, power that could, inevitably, destroy everything that she's ever worked for.

After a few moments, the anger dies down and is replaced by hurt truer than anything she has ever felt before; he doesn't love her enough to come to her, he doesn't want her to write him back, and he doesn't want to tell her what's going on. Things are _different_, but he hasn't explained to her how they're different, so, for all she knows, he could now be in love with another woman and not want to tell her.

Her imagination runs wild, leaving her rocking herself back and forth, human emotions causing her to _act_ human, even though she knows she isn't. _This_ is why she shouldn't have tried to become this, to be something she isn't, because she's too capable of overreacting to things that happen, to overthink things, to destroy other people and their lives because her life isn't perfect.

She should _never_ have tried to become human for him.

_~x~_

He's back in Morganville only two and a half weeks later than he should have been, having used the extra time to stash Buckbeak away in the English countryside, along with sorting out various factors of his friendships with Dumbledore and Lupin, writing to Harry and ensuring that he's happy, and other things that he probably ought to try and explain to Amelie. But he doesn't: as he Apparates directly into her house, he decides the best way is to proceed by saying _sorry_, by apologising for what's gone on, and trying to explain it to her in a simplistic manner, because she won't understand what he wants to say.

"Amelie?" he knows she heard him arriving, that she can smell his scent becoming stronger in the room that's _their's_, yet she doesn't respond, and he knows she's mad with him. "I'm sorry for not being here, for not explaining what's going on…but I can stay longer this time, I promise."

_Finally_, she turns around, the promise that he's going to make up for his absence breaking down the walls she's already began to rebuild around herself. As she looks at him, she has to suppress a gasp: he's so different! There isn't the muscular physique, or the strong looking face: he's a broken shadow of a man, a shadow of who he used to be, and all she wants to do is tell him that she loves him, tell him that, with her, everything can be absolutely perfect. She can get him back to how he was before; get him back to being as he was last year, in his dreams, she's absolutely positive of this. She just needs to forgive him, first, to understand what's happened..

"What's happened?" she asks him without introduction, without even taking a step closer to him, though her expression seems as though she's still completely in love with him.

(Just seeing him has reminded her that, no matter what he says or does to her, she's never going to stop loving him irrevocably.)

And so they sit down, touching, yet not as close as before, and he begins to explain everything about Harry and Pettigrew and how he _had_ to ensure that Harry knew that he was innocent. He explains it so that she knows everything, yet she can't help but feel as though they're already breaking apart, as though he's already finding himself more and more engrossed in his _real_ life.

Even though this could now become his real life, if he wanted it to be.

**.**

True to his word, Sirius stays in Morganville for longer than his pre-set month, remaining until sometime in September, though spending less time with Amelie. Whereas before he wouldn't leave her side, now he has to write to Harry, Dumbledore, Lupin – everyone who knows he's innocent, and attempting to find ways to help find Pettigrew. The intelligence he's getting from Harry he's passing straight onto Dumbledore, and though Amelie _tries_ to get involved, he tells her rather bluntly that she doesn't understand.

"I don't get this town and how you run it; you don't get how Dumbledore and Harry and Voldemort work," he tells her straight, his tone harsher than anything he's used with her since they first met. "You wouldn't understand if I explained it to you, so there's no point."

She could protest: she could remind him that she's a vampire, that logic is something that comes easily to her, yet she doesn't. She doesn't want to drive him further away than the wedge between the two of them has already separated them, and so she'll do anything to just make sure he stays in Morganville – and if that includes her not being involved in his affairs, so be it.

(She still listens outside the door when he's saying the words as he writes them, so she _does_ know what's going on, but he's right. She doesn't understand it.)

Their evenings are the same as before, however, the one thing that makes her sure that there's still the feelings between them that made her so deeply in love with him, and the relaxed nature of him there makes her wonder if he's really like this…or if he's pretending. He doesn't seem _exactly_ the same as before; there's very little of his witty banter that made her laugh, and most of the time there's silence that hangs in the air, not conversation. But she doesn't care; she doesn't care that things are different, because they're the same when his hands touch her skin, when their lips meet, when they tell one another of their love.

(She tries to pretend as though she doesn't recognise the hesitation before he replies to her, but her heart knows that it's not going to be long until he tells her that he doesn't want to be with her anymore.)

It's not until there's a letter from Harry that things begin to change perceptibly for the worse, something she knows before she even knows what's going on because Sirius is letting her read the letter.

She doesn't comprehend what's going on, naturally, besides the fact that the letter has been engineered to sound more casual than its writer _truly_ feels, though she realises why Sirius wanted to show her the letter. He wanted her to see, first hand, that he's not leaving because he doesn't want to be here, but rather that there's someone who needs him.

"He's more important to you," she says, barely moving her lips, as she finishes reading the letter. There's nothing accusatory in her tone, nothing that could be construed as her insulting either him or Harry, yet it still makes Sirius wince – she's too perceptive. "Don't lie to me, Sirius, I can tell."

"Yes, he is," he doesn't lie to her, as per her request, and he takes a step closer to the woman who now stands extremely still, her hands clenched around the letter. "He always has been, and he always will be. He's the one who can save my world, because he's the one that already partially saved it…and he's my Godson."

She doesn't say anything, merely nods, because what _can_ she say? He would never stay with her, not when it's a choice between her and his world, and she supposes that she would never expect him to. For the first time, she's beginning to understand how the others felt when she left them, citing that love isn't enough to keep people together, because this is the situation they're in. There's a sense that she loves Sirius more than he loves her – and, deep within her heart, she's always known that this is the case – and all this means is that there's no chance that they could ever be together, forever.

"I understand," she manages to say, trying to hide just how much agreeing to this is destroying her on the inside. "You're a wizard first and foremost, Sirius, along with a Godfather. Love comes after that. It makes sense, truly." She doesn't actually know what she's saying, what she's agreeing with; the words are just tumbling out in a manner that reminds her of a mechanical robot, because she doesn't recollect even putting these words into a semi-coherent state in her mind.

There's an awkward silence that lingers between them, as her hands slowly fold the letter back up and hand it back to Sirius.

"Th—thank you for being understanding," he says, and all Amelie, in her more human state of being, wants to do is laugh, because it's so _formal_ for him informing her that they can't be together any longer. "This isn't because I don't love you…I…I _do_ love you. But family is something that, I'm sure you can understand, is more important at this moment in time, especially in a fragile Wizarding World."

She waves for him to stop, unable to listen to any further statements about how he _does_ love her, but love isn't enough; she can tell that there's an element of untruth to this, because, otherwise, he wouldn't have been so distant with her for entire durations of this visit. When two people love one another irrevocably, love can conquer all, something she's always known, even when she's told Oliver, Myrnin and all the others that this isn't the case – so when she knows she's being lied to, she can't handle it.

"You are aware of my feelings; they shall not change, even throughout time, if you should happen to _change your mind_," she says, spitting the final words slightly, her icy cold demeanour reserved for anyone other than Sirius coming through for the first time since their first meeting. "Love is something that could, conceivably, get two people through something, and it would have, I presume, if our situation happened to be more mainstream. However, it isn't. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you could pack your things and be on your way; I have work to do." there's a stiff aspect to the way she speaks to him now, as though she can't bear to be in the same room as him any longer, and she knows that he can tell this.

Nodding, he takes a step closer to the frozen vampire, someone whose emotions have caused her to lockdown, for fear of showing to him how much he's destroyed her by what he wants, and reaches to press his lips to hers softly. It's a gentle kiss, reminiscent of their first, and she can tell, with it, that he _does_ love her – but with a restriction. He has never been wholly hers, unlike she has been his, and yet it stunned her whilst it lasted.

"I won't bother you again, darling Amelie, know that," he promises, waving his wand to cause all his possessions to sweet around him, taking a step further away from Amelie as he does so. "I _do_ love you. You will not hear from me again, I swear."

His body disappears with a _crack_, his possessions moving also, and only then does Amelie fall to her knees, tears streaming down her face. She cannot begin to comprehend how things have changed so dramatically, how she could have gone from having the love of her life _here_, with her, to then have him promising never to bother her again.

She's hysterical as she rocks on the floor, relinquishing all control of herself, as she would generally have, because she _wants _to feel; she _wants_ to feel her diamond hard heart shattering into smithereens, to be broken beyond repair, because she wants to have a reason for acting as she will. She doesn't want to act without a purpose, doesn't want to be destroying lives – as she knows she will – without having reacted to the news first.

She should have known that it was coming; after all, she _knew_ it would be a bad idea to act as though she was human, when there is no way that she could ever become human again, didn't she? It's always threatened to overcome her, _did_ overcome her with the poor owl, and it's got another chance now, one greater than before, because she's never going to see Sirius again.

For the first time in her life, she feels _lonely_ without a man in her life, as though strong, independent Amelie has been destroyed and weakened to the point where she needs a man. This is something which angers her; she remembers the time when she was stronger than _everyone_ put together, someone who could decimate the entire army of another, before she fell in love. Her heart has destroyed her; weakening it, allowing it to feel…all it's done is leave her weak and vulnerable, reliant on her emotions, and that's something that could ultimately destroy the town – and her.

She doesn't know if she'll ever return to being as strong as she used to be, whether she'll be able to control herself enough to ever control Morganville as a true leader. But, one thing she _does_ know is: she'll never, ever trust another person, male or female, as much as she trusted Sirius Black.

And she'll never love again.

_~x~_

He leaves physically – but he doesn't leave in soul; he may be able to distance himself from her and tell himself that he can live without her, but it's with an effort that he never knew he would have to put in to get there. He doesn't know why he told her he'd stay away for the rest of his life when, so long as there's nothing that requires him to be in the Wizarding World, because she's the one who got him through the hardest part of his life. Even when she knew his story, she did what his friends didn't do, and stood by him; she was always there, in his mind, and made him feel as though he was the luckiest man in the world whenever he turned up in Morganville – and that's what makes the guilt so much greater, that he had to leave her. They could have been something great together, Sirius and Amelie, because they'd already started off that way, a burning flame that threatened to overcome all shadows and the darkness…but now they're disintegrating, ceasing to exist, and the shadows are creeping back.

The darkness, evil, it always wins; it always succeeds in destroying the good within people and leaving them empty, broken shells, unable to contemplate moving on with their lives. It leaves people desolate and broken hearted, even when they have other things to focus on, because there's always part of them wondering what _could_ have been.

What could have been if he had stayed in Morganville and not ran back to England for Harry; what could have been if he had decided that love was more important than his Godson. He could be happy now, two and a half years later, rather than be holed up in a house he thought he had gotten shot of when he turned seventeen.

He could be dancing with the woman he loves under the stars, telling her he loves her, allowing himself to fall _completely_ and irrevocably in love with her. They could be together, happy, _united_…but they're actually on the opposite side of the world, almost, her barely holding it together, him writing letters incase he perishes.

They're reaching a climax in London; soon, something has to give, be it to the forces of good or evil, and nobody seems to be ready for it. They're just…_waiting_, waiting for something to happen, for Harry to get involved most likely, and then everything will kick off.

Sirius doesn't know if he's safe; there's no guarantee in a war – look at James and Lily, Gideon and Marlene, Fabian and Dorcas – and he doesn't want her to go through the duration of a human lifespan, wondering if he will renege on his promise and come back to her. He wants to leave her a letter, something to close his chapter in her life for good, and he'll probably end up sending it soon anyway, just to get it over with. The guilt grows with every month that passes, the guilt that he could have just stayed with her and made her happy – and him happy – and even the guilt that he's let this go on for so long.

So he writes it.

Little does he know that he actually needs it.

_~x~_

She sits in her office, as she does every day, and there's a repetitive nature to the way that she signs the forms she's been asked to sign, answers the telephone to the three vampires she is close to and on speaking terms with, and stares out of the window at the rising sun. Routine is the only way she can get through life without a heart, something that refuses to heal until she knows for _sure_ that Sirius will never become hers once again, and it's worked for the past two and a half years or so. Perhaps it's even closer to three years now – she doesn't know; blocking it out is the only way that she can make it through without going crazy again.

(That period of her life was the darkest she has ever been; she doesn't recall how many deaths she caused, but horror doesn't cover how she feels whenever the memories slip into her consciousness.)

There's a tapping at the window which interrupts her, since she knows it's not supposed to happen, and her heart threatens to wholly shatter and recombine at the same time: it's an owl there. She doesn't know any other wizards, so the letter _has_ to be from Sirius: she's not sure why he'd be writing to her if he just wanted to keep her away, so maybe-

…No. She can't let herself dream. She can't. She _can't_.

With trembling fingers, she opens the window, ignoring the tingling of her skin as it comes into contact with the sunlight, and invites the owl in.

Slowly, she removes the envelope, and it flies away – it's a good thing, she supposes, after what happened to the last owl. A brief thought has her contemplating if _this_ owl knows what happened to its fellow, or if it is perhaps just a coincidence.

With their magical connections, Amelie realises both options are as likely as the other.

There's a message at the top, yet she doesn't read it, because she realises that it isn't Sirius's handwriting, so it holds no interest to her.

_Dear Amelie_

_If you're receiving this letter, please know that I am no longer in this world; I have been taken to the next, most likely thanks to the Dark Side of magic, and this is a letter to inform you of this._

_Due to my untimely demise, you may as well know that I always loved you, will love you until my final moments, and that distance didn't make me stop loving you. You don't know how much I wish that Voldemort didn't return – in the end, he did; Harry saw him come back, and we're fighting against him again now – but he did, and I wish I had been able to stay with you._

_I love you, Amelie, but now I'm dead, I want you to move on. You don't deserve to be hung up on someone like me for your entire, eternal life; you deserve to fall back in love with Sam, to realise that, sometimes, things like this happen to push two people back together._

_We were pretty swell together, weren't we? You brightened the time I was in Azkaban, and we would have made something of us, if I hadn't have died – hence the letter._

_Sirius._

Only now does she focus on the note at the top of the page, something written in a more slanting, yet neater script – the author being an Albus Dumbledore, someone she remembers Sirius mentioning before.

**This letter was left in my possession before Sirius died. He desired you to have it.**

**Heed his words wisely, dear lady; he may have had an odd way of putting about his ideas, but this man knew what he was talking about**

**-Albus Dumbledore**

Her reaction before is incomparable to now, to today, now _he's dead_. Now he can never come back to her, never tell her he loves her; she has to reread his words on the piece of paper for eternity – or until it can no longer be read. She can't hear him say anything, look into his eyes and see the love for her he has (_**had**_) or do anything that requires being with him.

All she has are memories, relics of their time together, as well as the bad times.

_~x~_

(Sometimes, as the years pass, she begins to wonder if this is really all just a dream, or if she really _has_ turned into someone who destroys humans for the sake of it, just to try and heal a broken heart.)

(Sometimes, she knows that it's the truth.)

* * *

_Wow._

_This was never, __**ever**__ supposed to be this long. 10k, maybe. Not longer than my OTP fic._

_**No**__ favourites without reviews, please and thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


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